


Alchemy of Forgetting

by newnumbertwo



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Major Crimes (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-19
Updated: 2015-05-13
Packaged: 2018-03-18 14:51:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 19,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3573743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newnumbertwo/pseuds/newnumbertwo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rusty's snarky chemistry teacher is more than he seems...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Laura_Mayfair](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laura_Mayfair/gifts).



Title: Alchemy of Forgetting: Chapter One  
Fandom(s): Major Crimes, Harry Potter  
Rating: T  
Word Count: 1613  
Characters: Sharon Raydor, Severus Snape, Rusty Beck  
Chapter Summary: Rusty's snarky chemistry teacher is more than he seems...  
A/N: Dedicated to the wonderful [](http://laura-mayfair.livejournal.com/profile)[**laura_mayfair**](http://laura-mayfair.livejournal.com/) in honor of her birthday. Happy Birthday! *huggles*

Buzz entered the Murder Room with Rusty trailing behind. Sharon hopped up from the desk she’d commandeered and approached her electronics guru. “Thank you, Buzz.”

He sighed and handed Sharon her coffee, then distributed the rest of the coffee order. Sharon took a sip, mmmed, and turned to Rusty. “How was school?”

He shrugged. “Didn’t get suspended today.”

“That’s not funny.”

“Sorry, Sharon.” He wasn’t. “It was...fine. Most of my teachers are really lame - are you sure that’s a good school?”

She nodded. “One of the best in the city.”

“Well, there must be some really crappy schools then.”

“You have no idea,” Sanchez said from his desk.

Rusty nodded. “Anyway, there’s one who’s not so bad.”

‘Not so bad’ was likely Rusty-speak for ‘cool,’ so, that was encouraging. She smiled, summoning all the warmth and patience she could muster. “Come into my office and tell me all about it.”

She turned on her heels and caught Lieutenant Provenza’s raised eyebrows. She shrugged and walked through the Murder Room and into her office. She didn’t stop until she reached her desk. She sat down, and Rusty sat across from her. “So, tell me about the one you like.”

“I didn’t say I liked him.”

She raised her brow.

He stopped in his tracks. “He’s my chemistry teacher. Severus Prince, or something. I think he’s from England.”

“Oh, really? That’s interesting.”

“Whatever.” He shrugged. “He’s a hard-ass already, but he’s, well...you know where you stand with him. He doesn’t pretend to like you, and he doesn’t expect you to like him. It’s...I don’t know, real.”

She nodded. The boy could use someone who would be _real_ with him. “You said he’s tough.”

“That’s an understatement. One of the kids - a senior - left the classroom in tears.”

“Why?”

Rusty shrugged. “Mr. Prince called him a ‘dunderhead,’ or something. Told him not to come back until he could follow instructions without destroying a ‘bloody beaker’.”

“Well, I bet the young man will never make that mistake again.”

Rusty snorted. “I followed the directions okay, by the way. It was kinda fun. Like cooking.”

 _He liked cooking?_ That was good to know; she would keep that in mind. “Well, I’m glad your second day went so much better than your first one.” She gave him a hard look, so he would remember their deal. “It sounds like Mr. Prince probably assigned some homework. Why don’t you get started in the breakroom? And if you finish you can play chess on my computer.”

He nodded.

Chess was his life-blood. It had probably been the only stable thing in his life, and she noticed it helped calm him. It was also the sole source of positive reinforcement she had, at least for the time being, so she would milk it for all it was worth.

He grabbed his bag and headed into the breakroom. She refocused on her casefile. She shook her head. Severus Prince’s methods sounded a bit unorthodox, but they were effective, at least with Rusty. That set Mr. Prince ahead in her book.

////////////////////////////////////////////////

Severus shook his head when the last dunderhead left after the final bell. He packed his bag, loaded the burned beakers into the back sink - whoever served detention with him first would be cleaning those out - hit the lights, and exited the room. He strode to the teachers’ lot behind the school and got in his green Civic. He’d parked in the shade, so his tan leather interior wasn’t _too_ hot.

Next time he decided to relocate, he would choose fuckin’ Alaska or some other cold place. He’d chosen the City of Angels because it was the farthest place from Scotland he could think of - and the absolutely last place anyone would think to look for him. Not that anyone would.

He drove to his studio apartment near the school and went inside. He threw his bag on his couch and lifted the hem of his black turtleneck as he moved to his dresser. He tossed his shirt in the laundry bag and pulled out his vintage Sabbath shirt. He’d bought it when he and Lucius had attended a concert during the Never Say Die tour. He put on the t-shirt and went into the bathroom. The scar on his neck was still red, angry. _Fuckin’ Nagini and her psychopathic owner_. Tom Riddle had become even more paranoid in the end; of course, he hadn't been wrong. Severus had been working to sabotage the would-be warlord, and he’d succeeded too. He had even managed to outsmart Albus. He chortled despite his raw throat’s protest - talking to those idiots all day was murder.

After Riddle had Albus murdered, there had been no living soul to vouch for Severus, and he’d had no choice but to play the role Albus had forced him into. But he’d known it was only a matter of time before Riddle decided to kill his _prized and most trusted_ chemist. The way Riddle had kept that blasted snake so close to him at all times, Severus had suspected Nagini would be Riddle’s weapon against him. And there was a certain poetic justice: the world’s foremost chemist poisoned.

It had been the blood loss that had nearly killed him, though. The toxins Severus had offset with the antidote he’d created and kept on his person at all times. When Riddle had called him into that meeting, he’d had the antidote in his breast pocket. After Nagini had bitten him and Riddle had left him to die in that shack, Severus had pulled the vial out of his pocket with shaking fingers already affected by the poison spreading through his body. He’d brought the vial to his lips and swallowed. Then he’d passed out, comforted by the fact he was still breathing.

By the time he’d come to, the blood had congealed enough to clot, another effect of the antidote, and it saved his life. Still, he’d felt faint. Weak. And so heavy. Like there wasn’t enough blood to sustain his muscles and organs. He’d needed blood, and fast.

He’d dragged himself out of the shack, crawling, as that was easier. Outside the shack, the world had been exploding around him. Countless gun shots. The cavalry had arrived. If he’d had the energy to snicker, he would have. Riddle hadn’t been long for this world. But neither would Severus have been if he hadn’t kept moving. After everything, he’d loathed the thought of being shot like a dog. With no one aware that it had been he who had made this _victory_ possible.

He’d made it to his lab. It hadn’t been destroyed yet, but it had only been a matter of time. He’d reached into his fridge, grabbed the bag, and set up the apparatus. He’d lain on the examination table as the IV had done its work.

With each drip of the IV, he’d grown stronger, more determined.

A single gunshot. Then silence.

He hadn’t had time to empty the bag. They would arrive to torch the lab in moments.

He’d detached himself from the IV and gone to the pig’s cage and unlocked it. The pig had snorted as it had walked, its movements awkward. He’d picked up the pig and carried him to the desk. Then he’d doused the pig in what remained of the bag of blood - once burned, it should be enough to fool everyone, and if not, he’d be long gone. He’d thrown on a mask and had tossed every beaker and test tube to the floor. Glass had shattered. There had been several spontaneous chemical reactions, some of which he’d never seen, but he’d lacked the time to take them in. He’d pulled out his matches and stepped over to the portrait of Riddle on the back wall. He’d entered the secret passageway behind it and had struck the match, throwing it as far into the lab as possible. Then he’d run. The deafening explosion had confirmed his success. Still, he’d mourned his lost work. Not all of it had been for that raging psycho.

He’d run without stopping until he’d arrived in LA.

He’d made use of his espionage skills to create a false birth certificate and credentials. The Prince name had died out, having given way to Snape, a name he’d always despised as much as he had his father. Reclaiming his birthright had been an easy decision. He’d read of his death in the _London Times_. It had been greatly exaggerated, as Twain wrote, but he’d succeeded in fooling everyone.

He filled the kettle and placed it on the stove. No matter how much he healed, his throat was still raw, and talking to those fuckin’ idiots all day didn’t help. The kettle whistled, and he poured his tea, slipping a bit of whiskey in the mug. He sipped it, letting it soothe his aches.

He grabbed his bag off the sofa and reached inside for his gradebooks. He happily wrote F’s next to each name, taking intermittent sips. Then he got to Russell Beck. The lad had missed his class the first day - evidently he’d put three boys in the infirmary - but today he’d attended and he’d shown some aptitude. At the very least, he could follow simple instructions. Next to Russell’s name, (the boy insisted he went by Rusty, but Severus wasn’t one to comply with such wishes) he wrote a B. A gift for sure, but he was feeling generous. Or perhaps that was the whiskey spreading through him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First impressions aren't always accurate...

She straightened her skirt, retouched her makeup, and spritzed a splash of fragrance mist.

“You don’t have to go, Sharon.” He snorted. “It’s high school. Nobody goes to conferences anymore.”

“Both of my children tried that, Rusty.” She smiled. “Didn’t work for them either.”

He rolled his eyes. “Suit yourself.”

Satisfied with her appearance, she exited the condo after shooting Rusty one last long look with the instruction to do his homework before watching tv.

When she arrived at the campus, she pulled the schedule Rusty had written for her out of her bag, and she entered the building.

She wasn’t particularly impressed with his first few teachers. They knew their material but lacked the means to inspire a room of sixteen-year-olds. Hell, they could barely keep her awake. Then she walked into the chemistry lab.

Mr. Prince wore black pants and a black turtleneck. Rusty had mentioned he wore black every day. “Like a priest but not,” he’d said. The dark clothes juxtaposed with his pale face and hands, the only places skin was visible. His hair was long and matched his clothes, as did his eyes. Said eyes were locked on her in something of a sneer in conjunction with his hooked nose and thin lips. “Well, don’t just stand there gawking, woman! Come in. Let’s get this bloody over with.”

She ticked through her options. Darth Raydor wouldn’t do Rusty any good. She doubted that approach would work with this man anyway. She settled for snark. “Yes sir,” she said. At least she refrained from saluting him.

She took a seat in front of his work station, which was a tall desk with beakers, test tubes, and papers scattered around. A quick glance revealed he’d been grading. How long did it take? It seemed he would save time with an “F” stamp. Instead, he’d taken the time to mark each one, along with what she suspected were scathing comments.

“So whose parent are you?”

His eyes bored into hers as though he were trying to figure that out.

She reached out her hand for him to shake. He took it in his. It wasn’t as cold as she would have thought. Long, elegant fingers. He shook it firmly and released. “I’m Captain Sharon Raydor,” she said with slight emphasis on ‘Captain.’ “I’m Rusty Beck’s foster mother.”

He nodded. “Yes, Russell.”

“He prefers Rusty.”

“I don’t.”

 _What?!_ “Excuse me, but it’s not your name.”

He snorted. “Fine.” He leafed through his papers. “What did you want to talk about? You have my undivided attention.” He pulled out his gradebook in a manner that belied his words. “Yes, the boy is passing.”

“Passing? I see all F’s here.” She gestured to the scattered papers.

“Those aren’t his. He’s yet to earn an A, but he’s a consistent B student.”

That was probably the equivalent of an A+ with any other teacher. She nodded. “Does he give you any trouble?”

“He pays attention, does his work, and leaves, which is fine by me.”

Why was this man working with children? “If I may ask, how long have you been teaching?”

He searched her eyes, for what she wasn’t sure. “This is my first year.”

She raised a brow. “What did you do before that?” At his put off expression, she added, “I have the right to know the qualifications of everyone teaching my son.”

“Foster son.”

She glared at him. “Since his mother has abandoned him not once but twice, that gives me the rights if not the title.”

He conceded if only a bit. “I worked in a lab. There was an accident. I switched careers and am more than qualified to teach _Rusty_.”

She forced a smile. Her mother had always said ‘You catch more flies with honey than vinegar.' It was a lesson she’d conveniently forgotten occasionally - when vinegar was more satisfying - but generally she’d followed. “That’s good enough for me.” She stood. “I won’t take up any more of your time. I can see he’s in good hands here.” She met his eyes. “You’re his favorite teacher, by the way.”

His reaction to that was unclear. He probably wasn’t used to being liked, but, deep down, everyone wanted to be. She understood that better than anyone. “Have a good evening, Captain Raydor.”

“You as well, Mr. Prince.”

She felt his eyes on her with every step she took exiting his classroom.

////////////////////////////////////////////////

As he expected, no other parent showed up for a conference, so he packed up and left. Captain Raydor wasn’t what he’d expected for Russell’s guardian - she was older, shrewd, and obviously didn’t take ‘no’ for an answer. And unlike most of the known universe, she hadn’t been the least bit intimidated by him.

She and the boy had that in common.

/////////////////////////////////////////////

Russell was much more sullen than usual. Agitated. His work suffered, and he burned his beaker for the first time all year.

Severus tsked. “I’ll see you after class, Mr. Beck.”

Russell groaned. “Yes, sir. Fine, sir. Whatever.”

Severus returned to his desk, opting to ignore the boy’s cheek.

After class, Russell approached his desk. The boy was angry, but whatever the cause, it had nothing to do with chemistry. “Mr. Beck, what excuse have you for such...shoddy work?”

He shrugged. “None, I guess. I’m just….I have a lot on my mind.”

Severus raised a brow. “Do tell.”

“My dad found out about me. I found out about him too. And he wants to meet me or whatever.”

Severus nodded. His own familial experiences had been far from ideal, but even so, this didn’t sound so terrible. “And is that what you want?”

“I didn’t at first, but then Sharon said I might be able to learn from him. About myself. About my mom, if he even remembers her. She bought me a suit too.” He shrugged. “It’s just dinner, and Sharon will be there. I just…I don’t know what to expect.”

Captain Raydor had been wise. Leaving the decision with the boy. Even if she had manipulated him into choosing what _she_ thought was best. The suit had been a good move. “I see. And when is this _meeting_ taking place?”

“Tonight.” He shook his head. “I’m, um, sorry about that beaker. I can, uh, wash it out.”

“Yes, that would be good. Then you can go.”

Russell retrieved the beaker and brought it to the back sink. The corrosion wasn’t coming out, no matter how hard he scrubbed. Severus chuckled, then gave the boy a tip to improve his technique.

When the beaker returned to its natural transparency, Russell returned it to the cabinet and packed his books. Severus held out a pass for him. “Here, Rusty.” Severus smirked. “There’s no reason to make your day even worse.”

Russell snorted as he grabbed the pass. “Right? What is it with this school anyway? Thanks, Mr. Prince. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Indeed, Mr. Beck.”

As Russell exited, Severus grinned until the next group of dunderheads arrived. He picked up the chalk and wrote the formula for their lab. He was through wasting his breath to speak to them beyond what was necessary.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////

“Captain, you have a visitor,” Buzz said, when she exited the morgue.

“A visitor, really? And just who is that?” If it were Daniel Dunn she would be ready. Of course, she couldn’t guarantee his safety once he left…

“A Mr. Prince. Says he’s Rusty’s teacher.”

She nodded. “Of course. He’s in my office?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Thank you. I’ll be right there.”

She entered the Murder Room and strode into her office, meeting Provenza’s raised eyebrows with a shrug as she went.

She opened her door. Mr. Prince was sitting straight as a rod, dressed in all black, as always. “Mr. Prince, what can I do for you? Rusty hasn’t been any trouble, I trust.” She sat at her desk.

“He’s no trouble, madam.” His black eyes searched her face. “I want to know what happened to him.”

“His face, you mean.” He nodded, a slight sneer as though it had been obvious. “I’m afraid what you saw today was an improvement. Unfortunately, it’s an ongoing investigation, so I can’t tell you anything.”

“It was his bloody father, wasn’t it?!”

“You knew about Mr. Dunn?”

Mr. Prince waved his hand. “The boy told me last week they were going to dinner. At your pressing, I might add.” She nodded. “Then he seemed fine. Happy. And then he missed class. And then he turns up with a bloody shiner. One plus one, madam, always equals two.”

“You’re right.”

He snorted. “Obviously. What are you gonna do about it?”

“Don’t you worry about Mr. Dunn.” She glanced outside her office. “You see all those officers out there? They are all very _familiar_ with him, with what he’s done. And Rusty and I have a plan in place.”

“Is that enough?”

“If I have my way, Rusty will never have to see that man again. And Mr. Dunn will have great difficulty in his own life. I’ll take comfort in that, yes.”

He nodded. “I see the boy is in good hands. I should be going.”

She reached out her hand. “Thank you for stopping by. I’ll let Rusty know you were concerned.” She sighed. “Sometimes he doesn’t realize there are people who care for him.”

He shook her hand. “What about you? Are you…”

“I’m a trained markswoman. I’ll be fine.”

“I believe you will.”

He stood and walked out, his posture maintained with every step out of the murder room.

“Who’s the stiff?” Provenza asked, as he entered her office.

“That was Rusty’s favorite teacher, Mr. Prince.” She sighed. “He was concerned.”

“Aren’t we all. I still can’t believe you aren’t pressing charges.”

“Rusty doesn’t want to. And under the circumstances, I think this may work out better for him. I have to think about that first," she said. “Now what do you have for me?”

////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Rusty followed the instructions on the board and in his textbook. One burned beaker was more than enough. Mr. Prince was making the rounds, stealthily appearing in front of Rusty’s classmates just when they were screwing up the worst. It wasn’t nice, and Rusty was glad he seemed to be on Prince’s good side, but at the same time he liked that at least one teacher didn’t hesitate to call it like it was.

When Prince approached Rusty’s station, Rusty ticked off the steps, double and triple checking where he could have gone wrong. It went much easier when students could identify their failings. However, he could find none.

Instead of berating him, Prince placed a vial on his table.

“What’s that?” Rusty asked.

“A salve,” Mr. Prince said. He gestured toward Rusty’s eye.

“Salve? Like Vaseline?”

Prince scoffed. “Much better than that. But yes, it works on the same principle. I first created it when I was your age in school.”

Rusty nodded. “Thanks, sir.”

Prince made a sound Rusty couldn’t identify and moved on to the next ‘dunderhead.’ Rusty picked up the vial and removed the cork. It smelled nice, soothing. He didn’t think his face looked _that_ bad, but he would be happy to try it.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Severus yawned. He’d stayed up later than usual preparing Russell’s salve. After his conversation with Captain Raydor, he couldn’t resist the urge to help the boy in some way.

Perhaps it had been his memories of the _Marauders_ at school. Just when he’d thought he had escaped his abusive father, he’d found bullies at school. The Marauders had possessed the luxury of popularity and great wealth, of which Severus had neither. Most of his classmates, and even his teachers, had sided with them, leaving Severus to lick his wounds alone or in the infirmary. But he’d been smarter than them and had outlived them to boot. His salve alone could make him a fortune, if he wasn’t trying to keep a low profile.

He packed his bag and exited the classroom. It would be an early bedtime.


	3. Chapter 3

Sharon checked the clock in her dashboard. 3:20. Mr. Prince should still be there. She turned off the car and rushed inside.

After correcting a wrong turn at some point, she arrived at the chem lab and knocked on the door.

“Come in, come in,” Prince called in his ever-agitated tone.

She entered the classroom. “Mr. Prince?”

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Captain?” He asked without looking up from his work.

“I just wanted to thank you. The salve worked well.” She laughed. Why was she nervous? “I guess you could see that for yourself.”

“Indeed.”

“Well, just...thank you.”

She headed for the door. Why had she bothered? Anyway, she wasn’t sure Provenza and Flynn could run the Murder Room without it catching on fire, or something. She turned the handle.

“How’d it go?” Prince asked.

She let go of the handle and faced him.

“With the boy’s father, I mean.”

She nodded. “Very well. He’ll never see Rusty again, and he’ll have a hard time explaining why to his fiancee.” She smirked. “Of course, my anonymous call to CPS regarding her daughters may have something to do with that too.”

He laughed. It was even deeper and more powerful than his speaking voice - even through the rasp. Its energy vibrated through her. “Remind me never to mess with you, madam.”

She met his eyes. “People can and do mess with me somewhat regularly. It’s with my children I draw the line.”

He nodded but said nothing.

“Well, I’ll let you go. I’m sure you have places to be.” She smiled. “Good day, Mr. Prince. Thanks again.” She reached for the door again.

“Rusty’s lucky to have you,” he said.

He’d said it quietly and without the slightest hint of irony or snark.

“You too.” She rushed out. She needed to make sure the Murder Room was still in one piece.

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Rusty burst into her office and shoved a paper on her desk. “Look, Sharon!”

She picked it up and held it closer so she could read it. It was a chemistry essay (Mr. Prince assigned more essays than the English teacher) marked with an “A.” Prince had also written “Adequate” across the top, but that didn’t matter. Rusty had earned his first A in a class nearly everyone was failing. She beamed at him. “I hope you’re as proud of this as I am of you.”

He shrugged. “It feels okay, I guess.”

“And I _know_ Mr. Prince is proud of you too.” She glanced back at the paper. “Can I read this?”

“If you have time. I mean, don’t you have a murder to solve or something?”

She smirked. “I could use a break.”

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I’m gonna grab a soda. Want something?”

She shook her head and thanked him anyway, returning her focus to his work. Most of it was way above what little she remembered from high school chemistry. She hadn’t needed to take anything beyond a general lab science in college, so she hadn’t. The writing was clear and informative - and demonstrated what he’d learned.

Prince may have written “Adequate” across the top, but in the marginal comments, it was obvious the teacher had been excited - and even entertained - by Rusty’s work. He’d written things like “Yes!” when Rusty made a particularly good point, or he’d recommended other resources for further study. When she concluded, she glanced back at the top and laughed. The man certainly had a dry sense of humor.

She picked up the phone and dialed the school’s number. The secretary transferred her to Mr. Prince’s extension.

“Yes,” he said.

He was as biting over the phone as in person.

“Mr. Prince, it’s Captain Raydor. How are you?”

“Just about to leave.”

“I won’t hold you long. I was wondering, are you planning on teaching this summer?”

He snorted. “Can’t really afford not to in this city.”

She laughed. “Tell me about it. Selfishly, though, I’m glad. Rusty still has a lot of catching up to do - he’s determined to graduate on time - and he’d benefit best from you.”

He didn’t respond immediately, but then he said, “Yes, I’ll be here.”

“Thank you. I’ll let you go now. Good day.”

“Same to you, Captain.” She was about to hang up when he asked, “Did you see his essay?”

She grinned. “The ‘adequate’ one?”

He chuckled. “The work was not too shabby.”

“I noticed.”

“Did Rusty mention I’ve taken over as chess team advisor?”

“No. I’m so glad. Chess means so much to him.”

He grunted. “Yeah, well my predecessor wouldn’t know Alekhine’s Gun from the Anti-Sicilian.”

She opted not to share that she didn’t know that either. “Then I’m even more thrilled you’ll be there to teach him.”

Silence. Then, “Good day.” Click.

She gazed at the phone before returning it to the cradle. What was with him? The hot and cold. The push and pull. She shook her head, hung up the phone, and returned her focus to the open file. Rusty was right: She had a murder to solve.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

The phone’s ringing pulled her out of her reverie. She answered it.

“What’s going on? Rusty was upset.”

 _Mr. Prince_. He so seldom said ‘hello’ like a normal person. She resisted the urge to tell him it was none of his business. She was always on the defensive with him. She sighed. “I won’t presume to know everything in his head, but probably the same thing that’s bothering me.”

“Tell me.”

That came out in more of a purr than a bite. He really could be pleasant to talk to _sometimes_.

“There are details I can’t share. Some because it’s part of an ongoing case. And some because it’s Rusty’s story to tell.”

“I understand.”

She took a deep breath and released it. “He is a material witness in a murder trial. His actions at the time and his character will be under great scrutiny. It’s not what he wants nor what I want, but it is necessary to put away a rapist and a murderer for the rest of his life. Yesterday, we were reminded of exactly what this _trial_ will cost him. And the child the DA’s office assigned to the case will only make things worse.”

“That’s why he lives with you?”

“That, and the fact he ran away from his previous foster homes.”

He went silent, but by then, she’d learned it meant he was processing. “What can I do?”

She smiled sadly. “Keep doing what you’re doing. He needs to play chess and excel in his classes. And he needs support. He gets every bit of that we can spare around here.” Flashes of Provenza arguing with Rios came to mind. “But he could use it at school too.”

“You have my word.” Click.

She shook her head. Whenever they touched on anything _real_ or emotional, he broke off. Then one or the other would initiate contact - about Rusty, of course - and it would happen again.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

He hung up. He knew she thought him rude, but so be it. He didn’t trust himself around her. She and the boy made him...feel. And until he learned how to control it, he would have to limit contact, especially with her.

Her warm voice and those kind yet penetrating eyes that couldn’t decide whether they were green or grey. They drew him in and invited him to stay. He was afraid he wouldn’t always be able to say ‘no.’

He shook his head. How had he gotten so weak? So gutless?

And Russell. The lad was a pawn, just like he’d been. At least the boy had that tigress - and the other officers - to love him. Severus had always only had himself, but he’d done well enough. He’d survived, escaped. And so would Russell, if Severus Prince had anything to say about it.


	4. Chapter 4

Rusty covered his mouth as he yawned. Of course that happened to be the moment Mr. Prince chose to walk by. “At least you covered your mouth,” he said.

Rusty nodded. “Sorry. Tired.”

“Clearly. Not up all night studying, I hope.”

Rusty shook his head. “No, sir.”

A hint of a smile appeared on Prince’s face. Only that couldn’t be possible because Mr. Prince never smiled. “A night of fun? Enjoying your summer?”

Rusty snorted. “I wish.”

“I’m in suspense, so do tell me what has kept you awake.”

Rusty shrugged. “Sharon’s husband came home late last night. Scared us both to death.” He paused. “Thought it was someone trying to kill me.” He probably shouldn’t have said that last bit, but Mr. Prince brought things out of him - kind of like Sharon.

Prince raised a brow. “You’re not one for melodrama, usually, Russell. Is there a reason you and Captain Raydor would think that?”

“The joys of being a witness.” He rushed on. “But it was just Jack, and he’s harmless.”

Prince nodded. “Then I’m glad all is well.” He glanced at Rusty’s mixture. “Stir counterclockwise ten times,” he said before moving on.

That wasn’t written in the lab book’s instructions, but it didn’t surprise him. Mr. Prince had always gone deeper than the book. He probably could have written his own. The man simply oozed chemistry. Rusty followed the directions and smiled as the mixture turned the exact color as the picture. In fact, his was brighter, purer.

He met Mr. Prince’s eyes. The man nodded at him from his desk. It was the closest thing to express approval he was likely to get.

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

She was married?! To a “harmless” man named Jack who returned home at odd hours and scared Russell and Sharon? He marked another piece of slop with an “F” and the question “Are you kidding me?” He hadn’t missed the important part of the boy’s message: he was in danger. Threatened because of the case the Captain had mentioned. He would be discussing that with her. And maybe find out more about this _husband_.

Why was he surprised, anyway? A woman like that… of course she was married.

The summertime dunderheads were worse than the ones during the regular school year. Russell and his lab partner Kris were the best in the class. Although the girl spent way more time looking at Russell than at her book and beaker. Russell, for his part, didn’t even seem to notice, or if he did, he certainly wasn’t acknowledging it. _Hmm, interesting._

He glowered as he glanced around the room. The students worked double-time once they caught his gaze. Satisfied they were on task, he continued marking.

When everyone left for the day, he called Captain Raydor.

“Hello?” she asked. If he wasn’t mistaken, she sounded tired too.

“Is Rusty really in danger?”

A sigh. “There’s been a threatening letter, yes. But he lives with me and hangs out in a police station when he’s not in school. I assure you he’s well protected.”

“Is that what you tell yourself at night?”

Another sigh. “Yes, just after I double check that my gun is loaded and readily accessible. We’re taking this very seriously. But I also want Rusty to not feel like a prisoner.” A pause. “It’s bad enough I had to take his driving privileges away.”

“So, he’s grounded until the trial?”

She laughed but there was no mirth in it. “That’s almost exactly what he said as he handed me his car key.”

“Are you...is everything okay?”

“Yeah, we’ll be fine. I just wish we could get this trial over with. Or make the deal.”

“A deal?”

“Yes, if we take death off the table and allow him to plead guilty to lesser charges, we could bypass this whole situation.”

“Then why don’t you?”

“That, I’m afraid, isn’t my call. That’s up to the DDA in charge of the case. And since she’s fresh out of law school and determined to prove herself…”

“Oh, I see.”

Not even Captain Raydor could protect the boy from everything. And not from that dunderhead attorney, it seemed.

“Anyway. Did you need anything else?” There was a forced bubbliness to her tone he hadn’t heard before.

“I heard you had a late night visitor.”

“Does Rusty tell you everything?” He could see her eye roll on the other end. “My _husband_ is in town.”

“In town?”

“He visits on occasion. Usually when he’s broke or needs something.”

 _Oh._ He said nothing. Simply waited for her.

“He’ll leave when I don’t help him. I just hope Rusty doesn’t get attached before then.”

“He’s…”

“A disappointment, yes.”

“I’m sorry, Sharon.”

It was the first time he’d said her name. He liked the way it rolled off his tongue.

“I should get back to work.” A beat. “Thanks for calling. And please don’t worry too much about Rusty. He’s resilient.”

“I’m beginning to see that.”

She ended the call. He placed the phone in the cradle and shook his head.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Her phone vibrated. She glanced at the caller ID. _This is new_. She accepted the call and sank onto her couch, her gloriously undisturbed couch. “Hello,” she said.

“Is the freeloader gone?”

She smiled. While she didn’t always condone his insults, especially those of children, sometimes it was nice to call a spade a spade. “He is, finally. I’m actually sitting on my sofa. The pillows are arranged just how I like them. I can’t tell you how good that feels.”

“Then why don’t you sound happier?”

She sighed. “I don’t know. I’m relieved he’s gone, believe me, but…”

“You were getting used to him being there.”

“I guess. That, and I’m not entirely happy with how we behaved today.”

“Tell me.”

She explained how what she’d thought was a nice gesture in helping her unemployed husband find work had backfired, which led to a battle of wills in front of the suspect - and Rios. Not to mention her division and Rusty.

“But you kicked his arse. Made him realize you’re not one to be trifled with. Good on you.”

“If you say so.” She hugged a pillow with her free arm. “I’ll be glad to get back to normal.”

“And how’s Rusty taking it?”

“He doesn’t know yet. He’ll be home shortly, and we’ll both deal with our evenings.”

“What’s wrong with his evening?”

“He’s going to have to find a way to let a perfectly nice girl know he’s not interested. And, well, he’s been struggling with it.”

“I’m sure Kris can understand if he’s gay.”

So, he did know what was going on in his classroom - and with students who weren’t Rusty. _Good to know_. She sighed. “I don’t think Rusty’s _there_ yet. And because he hasn’t told me, I’m not assuming anything.”

“But you are using your eyes.”

“Yes, I am.” The front door handle squeaked as the key turned in the lock. “He’s coming in now. I’ll, uh, talk to you later.”

“Good night, Sharon.” He ended the call.

Rusty burst into the living room. “Jack’s gone,” he said. No question.

She nodded. “He is.”

“Who was that on the phone? I mean, never mind, it’s not my business.”

She smiled. “It’s okay. For once, it wasn’t a member of the team. It was Mr. Prince.”

He nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay? You’re not surprised?”

He shook his head, and sat next to her on the couch. “I don’t know. I think he, like, likes you, or something.” He shrugged. “He’s hard to figure out, though.”

She snorted. “Tell me about it.” She ruffled his hair. “So how was your evening?”

He groaned. “Is it okay if I don’t wanna talk about it?” He looked at his feet. “Maybe tomorrow. I just, I need to process it, okay?”

She patted his back. “Okay. Sure. I completely understand. You know how I need to process information sometimes?” He looked up and nodded. “I totally respect you having that same need. I just want to know one thing--” He looked ready to bolt. “--are you okay?”

He nodded. “Yeah. And her family is nice, really they are.” He stood. “Well, good night, Sharon.”

“Good night, honey.”

He headed toward his room, but turned to say, “Sorry about Jack.”

She nodded. “Me too. On so many levels.”

She settled back on the couch and hugged the pillow. If what Rusty had said about Mr. Prince was true, she wouldn’t mind having further access to that voice. Not at all.


	5. Chapter 5

“And why did the police interrupt my class to pick up Rusty?”

She rolled her eyes although he couldn’t see. “Perhaps my commanding officer overreacted. But we had to operate under the assumption Rusty was in imminent danger.”

“In my chemistry lab, Sharon, the only thing he need fear is my wrath if he destroys one of my beakers.”

She laughed in spite of herself. “I’m sure. But I doubt he would have been so well-protected in his next class.”

“I concede your point.” A pause. “Is it truly serious?”

“It is. There have been many letters, and it’s clear this person knows Rusty’s schedule very well.” She sighed. “For all I know it could be you.”

“Now, why would I risk interruptions in my class or the loss of my best chess player?” He paused. “What are you going to do?”

“For now, he won’t leave my apartment except to come with me to work. He’ll have round-the-clock security until my commanding officer and I can come up with a solution.”

“All this over a trial,” he muttered.

“Tell me about it.”

“I can perhaps tutor him at your flat. Maybe play chess with him too. If that’s acceptable.” He snorted. “I’d hate for his skills to atrophy.”

She smiled. The man was full of surprises. “He’d love that.”

They arranged for the sessions to begin the next afternoon, and she provided directions to her apartment. After she hung up, Rusty had come out of his bedroom into the living room - he’d been hiding there since they’d come home from their meeting. “You look...I don’t know, almost happy. Did you decide to send me to witness protection or something?”

She shook her head. “Don’t even joke about that.”

He sat next to her on the sofa. “Sorry, Sharon. I know I’m a problem for you, again. And I don’t want that.”

“You don’t want to go, and I don’t want you to leave. So that means we’ll each have to agree to certain...concessions that Chief Taylor and Emma give us.” She met his eyes. “And you’ll have to follow them to the letter.”

He nodded. “I’ll do anything to stay here. I mean as long as you’ll have me.”

“Good. And at least we can count on Lieutenant Provenza’s support.” She gestured to her phone. “Speaking of support, that was Mr. Prince on the phone.”

“He was probably pissed his class was interrupted.”

“He was concerned, yes. He also offered to tutor you. Here.”

He nodded.

“And the best part is he’ll play chess with you.”

His eyes widened. “I’ve never played against him before.”

“You think he’s good?”

He nodded quickly and firmly. “The moves he teaches us are advanced, Sharon. Like, amazing.”

She smiled. “Well then, this works out.”

“Yeah. Um, I’m surprised you haven’t yelled at me yet.”

“Do I need to yell at you? Would that make you feel any better or worse?”

“I guess not. I know I screwed up.”

“Yes, you did. But there’s no point in calling further attention to it. The best thing we can do is decide where to go from here and work together to keep you safe.”

“You know I’m sorry, right?”

She nodded. “I do. And I’m sorry I didn’t figure it out.” She sighed. “I hate that you were carrying that all on your own all summer.”

“I can take care of myself, Sharon.”

“You _took_ care of yourself. And I’m glad you could, can. But now you don’t have to do it alone.”

“I guess I keep forgetting that.”

She smiled sadly. “I guess I’ll just have to keep reminding you until you remember.”

“And if I never do?”

“You will, Rusty, you will. Now, I’m going to bed. It’s been an exceptionally long day today.”

He got off the couch and wished her a good night and started for his room.

“Good night,” she said. “And Rusty?” He faced her. “No matter what, I love you, and that’ll never change.”

He nodded and continued into his room.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

She tied together enough loose ends for their latest case so she could work from home for the afternoon. Provenza had muttered about the “stiff” coming over, but he’d volunteered to pick up any slack, “For the boy, of course,” he’d been quick to add.

She hurried home although she knew the detail was there with Rusty. When she pulled into the garage, a green civic was parked in the spot next to hers. Mr. Prince got out of his car and stood next to her door. She lowered her window. “Perfect timing,” she said.

“Quite. Do you require assistance carrying anything?”

She shook her head. “Just the one bag today.”

He stepped aside so she could open her door, and she grabbed her bag and led him to the elevator.

In the confined space, his presence was overwhelming. She had no idea what, if anything, to say.

“How’s the investigation going?” He asked.

She raised her brow.

“With Rusty, I mean.”

“Oh, that. Yes, we’re working every possible lead and angle.” She sighed. “But we’re not getting results. At least not as quickly as we would like. It’s different when…”

“...it’s your child. Yes, I understand. And how is Rusty dealing with all of this?”

“As well as can be expected. I think he’s relieved not to be carrying the burden alone anymore.”

He nodded.

The bell rang when they arrived at her floor. When the front of the elevator slid open, he reached out his arm and held his hand against the door. “After you, madam.”

She stepped out, and he followed. As they approached her apartment, she saw the security detail standing at parade rest outside her door. She smiled at them. “Thank you, I have it from here. Have a good evening.”

They nodded and the officer in charge said they would be monitoring the radio from their car until the relief team arrived.

The detail entered the elevator and disappeared as it closed. She led Severus inside. “Rusty?”

He rose from the sofa and came to the door. “Hey, Sharon. Hi, Mr. Prince.”

“Hello, Rusty," Mr. Prince said. "You’re looking well.”

Rusty nodded. “Yes, sir.” He focused on Sharon. “I’m glad you guys are here. I was getting stir-crazy, or something.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m sure it wasn’t as bad as all that.”

“Oh, yes it was, Sharon.” His head shook with conviction. “I never thought I’d say this, but I can’t wait to go back to school.”

Severus chuckled. “Well, let’s see what we can do about that, shall we?”

“Should I be scared, Mr. Prince?”

“Only of my chess moves.” He flicked his eyes to Sharon at his side. “Once we finish your course work, of course.”

She smiled, and Rusty snorted. “With you both here, I don’t stand a chance, do I?”

She laughed and shook her head. “Probably not.”

“I’ll go get set up then,” Rusty said. He disappeared into his bedroom.

She patted Severus’s arm. “Thanks again for...for everything.”

“I’m even more glad of my decision than before, Sharon. He’s...if he can make a joke, then he’s okay.”

She nodded. “I hope so.” She shook the sadness away and smiled. “I’ll show you around. It’s not much, but…”

“It’s lovely, Sharon. Trust me.”

“Oh, well, thank you.”

She led him into the living room/study area. “You two can work on the couch or the dining room table if that’s more comfortable. Rusty usually sits on the couch with his computer, and he practices chess at the table.”

He nodded. “Whichever he prefers is fine.” He glanced behind her at the far wall. “Lovely paintings.”

She looked at the artworks in question although she didn’t need to. “You don’t think it’s too much?”

He shook his head. “Nice colors. Goes with the dark wall.”

“Thank you. I was on a decorating tear a few years ago.”

He chuckled.

Rusty emerged with his book bag and chess set. He plopped everything on the coffee table and sat on the couch dramatically, which gave further indication of his mood. Severus was in for quite a challenge.

Severus took one look at the boy and said, “Sit up straight, lad. Good posture improves learning.”

He joined Rusty on the sofa, and Sharon smiled at the pair, then sat at her desk and opened her own computer.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////

“Checkmate.”

Rusty threw up his hands. “Again! I...it’s like I could see it in slow motion but do nothing to stop it.” He met Prince’s eyes and held out his hand to shake. “Good game, Mr. Prince.” He laughed. “And you were right, I should be afraid of your moves.”

They shook hands, and Prince chuckled, but then he became serious again. “You say you could see it. In slow motion. So you know how I beat you, then?”

Rusty nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Are you up for another game? Or would you rather deal with your rumbling stomach?”

“Didn’t even notice. But I guess I am hungry, yeah.” He looked over at Sharon. Her brows were furrowed in concentration. “Maybe I should start dinner,” he said to Mr. Prince. “Would you like…I mean can you stay for dinner?”

Sharon poked her head up from behind the computer screen. “Are you guys getting hungry?”

“Yeah, I’m gonna make dinner,” Rusty said.

Sharon nodded. “Great.” She glanced at Mr. Prince. “Would you like to join us?”

Prince chuckled. “Since you’ve both offered, I do feel obligated to stay, but only so long as I’m not imposing.”

Rusty grinned. “Not at all.”

He stood and went into the kitchen, already visualizing his moves for the next game.

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////

The chair was suddenly too stiff. Only it wasn’t the chair. The dining room set was quite lovely - just like the rest of their flat. It was his restlessness that was the problem.

“Are you okay, Severus?” Sharon asked. “We’re not overworking you, are we?”

He chuckled. “Not at all.” He returned to the sofa and sat with as much grace as he could muster. “I can’t remember the last time I’ve had so much fun.” A quick review of past events confirmed it. “Ever.”

She nodded. “Oh, I’m glad. That you’re enjoying yourself, that is.”

“And you? Are you overworked?”

She smirked. “You have no idea.” She tilted her head the way she did when she was thinking sometimes, which made him anticipate what she was going to say next. “It’s not that it’s new. Not really. Before, when I was in Internal Affairs, I mean, I was responsible for finishing my investigations within 72 hours. That’s how long the city, the department gave me to determine if my officers required personnel actions.”

He nodded. “That’s...fast.”

“Yes, so I’ve been adapting my former practices to my leadership of the Major Crimes Division, and I’d say we’ve had good results.” She snorted. “Even if Lieutenant Provenza doesn’t agree.”

“You were the officer in charge of the Poster Boy case?”

She nodded. Her eyes glazed with a sadness for just a moment. “I was. And I wish we had handled it differently.”

He’d caught a few segments on the news and remembered how the case ended. “Because he was killed?”

“That, and because we gave him everything he wanted when we went public.”

Of course. A pathological attention-seeker would have loved seeing himself on the news, however he had gotten there. “That wasn’t your decision.”

She sighed. “My boss means well, even when he’s wrong.”

Now, _that_ sounded familiar. He nodded. “I’ll leave you to your work.”

“Almost finished. Until tomorrow, that is.”

She returned her attention to her screen, and he gazed at the chess board. There were still a few combinations he wanted to show Rusty.

His nose twitched with the wonderful scents coming from the kitchen. Fresh vegetables. Tomato sauce. Broiled sausage. “I see his skills aren’t limited to the chemistry lab.”

Sharon laughed. “Yes, Rusty’s a wonderful cook, which works because I’m not really, and I’m rarely home at a decent hour anyway.” She snorted in self-deprecation. “My poor children. Of all of them, Rusty has adjusted to living with me the best.” She closed her computer with a satisfied sigh. “You know, even with the two of you here, I still got more done than I would have at my office.”

“A revolving door at work, is it?”

She rolled her eyes. “Constant.” But then her expression smoothed into that of a proud parent. “My officers are good. Even if they do require a lot of supervision.”

He’d only been there the one time. Quite a while ago. And it had been clear, even then, the officers respected - and feared - their boss. “I’m sure you’re more than up to the task. And you must be pleased you’re finished for the evening.”

She stood and stretched. “Excuse me. Didn’t know how stiff I was…”

He waved her off.

“I suppose it’s silly to sit back down, but there is something about this sofa.” She crossed the room and sat next to him. “I fell for it the second I saw it.”

“It is a fine sofa.”

Soft yet firm. It was perfect - and not unlike its owner.

“We haven’t worked out a schedule,” he said.

She nodded. “That’s right. We haven’t. Or any other terms.”

He furrowed his brow. “Terms?”

“Usually when a teacher devotes his entire afternoon and into the evening tutoring a student, he charges the parents.”

 _Oh_. Yes, that made sense. “That won’t be necessary. What I mean is, I consider Rusty’s improving skills for my chess team payment enough. Although I’m not unopposed to his providing me dinner while I’m here.”

She grinned. “I’m sure those are terms we can all agree to.”

“As for the schedule, I can be here each day after school, if that’s acceptable.”

“It is.”

She stared at some far away point as she obviously considered what this would mean for her days.

“Perhaps the detail could stay extra, if that’s easier for you.”

She nodded. “Yes, yes, that would be perfect. I’ll confirm it with them.”

“Then it is settled.”

She smiled and leaned further back against the sofa. A new scent wafted - just a hint of vanilla. It reminded him of that old superstition during his first year at university: a concoction that had supposedly conjured up the smells of the user’s strongest desires. He hadn’t believed it at the time and considered it an insult against his beloved science. But when he’d been compelled to take a whiff of the fumes, he’d been overwhelmed by vanilla. Soon after, he’d taken up Albus’s cause and had forgotten all about that _joke_ until now.

“Where’d you go just now?” she asked.

Of course she would sense something amiss. “Home.”

“England?”

“Scotland, actually.”

She hmmed. “Do you miss it?”

He shook his head. “No. There were reasons I left. I have no plans to return.”

She nodded.

“But. There are...memories worth having. Few though they may be.”

“And that’s where you were. What was it?”

How much could he say without giving himself away? It was bad enough the woman had an uncanny ability to read him.

“Dinner’s ready,” Rusty called from the kitchen.

Sharon laughed and patted Severus’s arm. “Hold that thought.”

He stood and held out his arm for her to grab. “After you, madam.”

“You, Severus Prince, are a gentleman and a scholar.” She looped her arm around his and led them into the kitchen.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Sharon loaded the last of the dishes into the dishwasher and turned it on. She smiled at the laughter coming from the other room. It was such a welcome sound these days.

She joined them in the living room and sat in the arm chair. They gazed intently at the chessboard wearing nearly identical expressions. Her knowledge of the game could fill a thimble, but she enjoyed watching them anyway. Rusty had more pieces on the board, but she knew just enough to understand that didn’t necessarily mean he was winning. Severus’s furrowed brow was a better indication of Rusty’s skill.

Some time later, Rusty moved a piece in front of Severus’s king. “Check.”

Severus moved his king. Rusty slid another piece across the board. Severus nodded slowly. “I concede.”

“Why?” she asked.

“He can’t move his king without putting it in check, and he has to make a move every turn,” Rusty said. “So I win.”

She smiled. “Very good.”

Rusty held out his hand. “Good game, Mr. Prince.”

Severus shook the offered hand. “Congratulations, lad.”

Rusty grinned. “And on that note, I think I’ll call it a night.”

He cleaned up the chess set and went into his room.

“You didn’t take it easy on him, did you?” Sharon asked, when she and Severus were alone.

He shook his head. “Never. He caught onto my strategy and outplayed me.” He snorted. “I’ll have to use a different one tomorrow.”

“How many do you have? Strategies, I mean.”

“Many. I’ve been playing since I was a boy, and I add new moves to my repertoire constantly. And I adapt to each opponent’s style.”

“But then--”

“--I needed Rusty to see how that combination worked. Tomorrow I’ll show him how to avoid that...situation.”

She nodded. She understood the logic behind his words, if not the game.

“I should get home.”

“Oh, yes. You must be tired. It’s been such a long day.”

“For you, also.”

He stood, and she followed suit. Walked him to the door. She leaned to kiss his cheek, but just before her lips reached their target, he turned his head. Her lips met the side of his mouth, and his nose rubbed against hers. She laughed. As first kisses went, it wasn’t the best, but it was endearing nonetheless.

His pale face burned red. “Good evening, madam.”

He moved to burst through the door, but she lay her hand on his arm. “Severus.”

He huffed. “I’ve embarrassed myself enough for one night.”

She shook her head. “I don’t see how.” She met his eyes. “Did I overstep?”

She watched him calculate his answer. What he considered his dignity was on the line. “No,” he said. “It was my fault, and it _won’t_ happen again.”

“Not even if I want it to?”

His eyes sought hers, looking for the slightest hint of irony she assumed. His eyes softened. “Perhaps. But not tonight.”

She stroked his face. “Until tomorrow, then.”

He nodded and walked through the door. He moved with purpose but not anger, as he strode toward the elevator. She stepped back inside her apartment and closed the door behind her.

Through their misstep she learned two things: Severus was much more sensitive than she, and he cared at least enough about her to feel embarrassment.

She sighed as she lay on her bed. Tomorrow would be interesting indeed.


	6. Chapter 6

He burst through his door, threw his bag on the kitchen counter and went to the loo, stripping his turtle-neck along the way. He applauded himself for not scratching his neck. It seemed redder than usual and merited the use of his ointment, which smelled bloody awful, but it did take away the itch and some of the redness.

He brushed his teeth, took off his trousers and threw on his Sabbath shirt, and climbed into bed.

He had run earlier. Perhaps his former foes had been correct - he was a bloody coward.

Sharon was there. Waiting for him. But for how long? At what point would she decide it wasn’t worth the bother and find some other bloke?

He sighed. Maybe he was a snarky bastard, but she had kissed him. He hadn’t handled it well, but she hadn’t cared. The woman had no idea how...potent that was. Her open-armed acceptance.

Still, he had no idea how he would face her the next day.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Sharon fidgeted as she stirred her coffee. Instead of the gentle clockwise wrist motion, her hand shook.

“Sharon, are you, you know, okay?”

She smiled. “Perfectly.”

“And you would tell me if I was in trouble again, right?”

“You need never worry about that. And you’re not. At the moment.”

He nodded. “Right.”

She sipped her coffee and put it down. “I should go. I’m late.” She rushed from the table and went to the door. “The detail is right outside. Will you be okay until Sev--Mr. Prince gets here?”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I’ll manage.”

She ignored his cheek. “Good. I’ll be home for dinner.” Then she was gone.

He shook his head. All the work she’d put into fixing her coffee, and she’d only taken a sip. Something wasn’t right. For once, it had nothing to do with him.

He sipped his own coffee.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

When Mr. Prince arrived, he didn’t look well at all. On his pale face, the dark circles around his eyes really stood out.

“You okay, sir?”

Mr. Prince nodded slowly. “I didn’t sleep well.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

Mr. Prince waved it off. “It’s a small matter.” He pointed to the math book. “Let’s get sine and cosine mastered.”

Rusty rolled his eyes. “Tell me again why I need trig.”

Mr. Prince was quiet a moment. “You know, I haven’t the slightest.”

“You don’t use it?”

“Rarely. Chemistry requires its own formulas, as you well know. It’s closer to algebra than any other math subject. Although the more advanced formulae resemble calculus. But it’s different. The numbers and symbols mean something.”

“Like a recipe.”

Mr. Prince nodded. “Exactly.”

“Thanks for being honest.” Prince’s brow furrowed. “I mean about this. Whenever I ask Sharon or Buzz why I need to know something they make up a reason.”

“They want you to learn the material and do well, I’m sure. And who is Buzz?”

There was something in his tone Rusty couldn’t identify. “Oh, he’s the department’s cameraman, or something. He takes all the videos of their crime scenes.” Rusty rolled his eyes. “He’s also my babysitter, or whatever. But he’s pretty cool. They all are.”

“You spent a lot of time in the department, I guess.”

Rusty nodded. “Yeah. They’re, like, my family. Especially now that I’m an orphan.”

“I was an orphan too,” Prince said in little more than a whisper.

“You were?”

Prince nodded. “A long time ago. I was just a boy.”

“What happened?”

Prince shrugged. “I went to boarding school. Discovered I had a sharp mind and went about cultivating it.”

Rusty nodded.

“I didn’t have someone like Sharon.”

“I’m sorry about that. She’s….I’m really lucky.”

Prince smiled. It didn’t happen often, but when it did, it was...nice. “She’d say she was the lucky one.”

Rusty sighed. “I don’t know about that. I cause a lot of problems.”

Prince laid his hand on Rusty’s shoulder. “It’s the role of a child to cause...problems, as you say. And the role of an adult to handle them, give the child an example for how to handle such problems in his own life. And Sharon Raydor is more than equipped to handle the worst you can throw her way.”

Rusty nodded. He hadn’t thought about it that way before, but that made sense. It hadn’t been true in his life pre-Sharon. His mother had caused most of their problems, and he’d handled them. Not that he blamed his mother. It had been the drugs, not her. “I think I’m ready to tackle this trig stuff now.” He grinned. “Can we play an extra game of chess, after?”

“Certainly.”

//////////////////////////////////////////////////

She relieved the detail. Maneuvering the food bags out of the drink tray, she handed each officer a bag with a hamburger and fries. “I hope these are still hot.”

They took the food gratefully, practically saluting her with their free hands. She handed Officer Michaels the beverage tray. “They’re cokes.”

They nodded, thanked her again, and went to their car to eat before beginning their surveillance shift.

She grinned. It didn’t take much to make people happy, sometimes.

She opened the front door, greeted by the sound of Severus’s calm instruction, and was rooted to the spot. For all his protestations to the contrary, Severus was a good teacher. So long as he had the right student.

“Hey, Sharon,” Rusty said. Then, “All right! Burgers.”

She rolled her eyes and entered the living room, intercepted by her eager son. She handed him the bag. “It’s just a snack, Rusty. I’m gonna start dinner.”

He grabbed the bag and looked inside.

“I know I don’t have to remind you of your manners. Or my rules.”

He grinned and returned to their guest. “Ready for a break, Mr. Prince? We gotta eat these at the table, though, because Sharon doesn’t like anyone eating on the couch.”

“Sounds sensible,” Severus said. “Having crumbs on one’s arse isn’t an entirely pleasant experience.”

Rusty laughed. “I guess not.”

The boys moved to the table, and Sharon went into the kitchen. She assembled the ingredients on the counter for a quick casserole.

“Can I offer my assistance?” Severus asked from behind her.

How had he gotten there without her hearing? She shook her head. “I’m good, thanks. What’s Rusty doing?”

“He’s digesting, he says. I think that means he’s studying the chessboard for his next strategy.”

She nodded. “How are you? Really?”

He shrugged. “I’m bloody tired, truth be told.”

“Me too.” She sighed. “I suppose we should talk. Later.”

“Yes.”

They were standing closer than they had the night before. His eyes were focused on her mouth. Maybe he was as tired of talking as she. Good.

“Are you coming back, Mr. Prince?” Rusty asked from the other room.

She stroked Severus’s arm. “Later. Okay?”

He nodded and returned to his charge.

She placed the casserole in the oven, set the timer and joined them in the living room. She sat in the armchair and watched their game.

“Smells good, Sharon,” Rusty said.

Severus nodded.

“We’ll see how it tastes in a bit,” Sharon said. “It’s a new old recipe.”

“I don’t follow,” Severus said.

“It’s something I haven’t made in years. And I don’t believe Rusty has ever had it, so it’s kind of new.” She shrugged. “Ricky reminded me of it today.”

Rusty nodded.

Severus furrowed his brow but said nothing and focused even more on the chessboard. What was going through his head?

“Ricky is my son.”

“Ah,” Severus said.

“He lives in San Francisco, so I don’t see him much. Or my daughter.”

Apparently she hadn’t outgrown the occasional bouts of word vomit.

“You must miss them,” Severus said.

“Sometimes. But with Rusty…” She broke off before she said too much. “It’s nice.”

“But you talked to him today?” Rusty asked.

“Yes. He had a question. Something about his job.” She waved her hand. “Some technical thing I can’t even begin to understand. But there was a question of legality, which I could understand.” She paused. “Anyway, he talked about my casserole being his favorite food from childhood, and I started craving it too.”

“I’m honored you’re sharing it with me, then,” Severus said.

Rusty nodded and moved a chess piece, then groaned.

Severus ended the game three moves after that. “I take it you know where you went wrong.”

“Yeah. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Perhaps we should break until dinner.”

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Rusty went to bed after redeeming his loss from the previous game. For his part, Severus had never been more content to lose a game. Watching the boy develop his skills daily...it made some folks’ devotion to education make sense.

He wasn’t sure he’d ever _love_ his job. He’d loved his work at one time - when Albus had first recruited him he’d felt like he’d belonged somewhere for the first time in his life. But that had quickly soured. Life at the school wasn’t bad, though. He would always be something of an outsider among the other teachers. And the children were dunderheads mostly. But there were a few - like Rusty - who could make his new career seem worthwhile.

Sharon had gone to her desk to work after dinner. He could feel her eyes on him. It was time.

He rose from the sofa and approached her desk. “I suppose we should talk.”

She nodded and closed her computer. “Have a seat. You look ready to drop.”

He sat in front of her. “I’m just now realizing how tired I am.”

“Me too.” A small smile. “Do you want coffee? Or tea?”

“Coffee would be fine, if you want it.” He gestured to her. “Won’t it keep you up?”

“I doubt it. And if it ensures you getting home safely, it’s worth it.” She stood and went into the kitchen. He followed her. She plugged in one of those Keurig contraptions and turned it on. “It’ll just be a moment.”

“What are we…” He found he had no idea what to say.

She took his hand and squeezed it. “I’m very tired, so I’m just gonna put it out there. I like you.” She met his eyes. “And I have reason to believe it’s mutual.”

He nodded. “It is.”

She smiled. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“Yes.”

She laughed. “I guess you’re right. But you know what, I’m _old_ , and this is either gonna work out or it’s not, but I think we’re worth the risk.”

He squeezed her hand. “You’re much braver than I, madam. And you’re not old.” He stroked her face. “I admire you for your experiences. How they’ve shaped you. The way you are with Rusty, your team. Your children. I just...where do I fit?”

She held his hand against her cheek. “I think you fit in fine right here.”

“And Rusty?”

“Rusty’s the one who told me you liked me.” Severus gasped. “Don’t worry. He’s the only one who noticed for a long time, I’m sure. The thing with Rusty is, well, he has very sharp instincts about people. Especially...relationship negotiations.”

“His past? The part that’ll get dragged out during the trial?”

She nodded. “What he did, he did to survive. And it was his...awareness that probably saved his life.”

Yes, he could relate to that. “I think the water’s ready,” he said.

She put the k-cup inside and let the machine brew.

“I suppose I should ask you to dinner.”

She hesitated, but he could see it was a no.

“Never mind. That’s…”

“Severus.” His head snapped up to meet her eyes. “I would love to go to dinner with you.” She gestured toward Rusty’s room. “But I wouldn’t feel right leaving him. Not until I know he’s safe.”

He nodded. Perhaps he should have known, but he’d had little reason to trust anyone in his life. It wouldn’t be easy for him to start.

“But if you’re willing to dine in - with us - in the meantime, I think a raincheck is in order.”

“You drive a hard bargain, madam.” He smirked. “Deal.”

“Well, all right then.” There was a light in her eyes that hadn’t been there before. “How do you take your coffee?”

She pulled out his mug and replaced it with an empty one, then she threw out the used k-cup and put a fresh one in its place.

“Black is fine.”

She suppressed a shudder.

“You have something against black coffee?”

“Not particularly, no. It’s just not how I like it.”

“Well, I’m not as sweet as you. Or as light.” She raised her eyebrows. “Inside, I mean,” he said.

“There are people, including the officers I work with now, who have disagreed with you.”

She fixed her coffee, as light and sweet as he would have expected.

“You were unpopular at work?”

She laughed. “You have no idea. I’ve been called Darth Raydor and The Wicked Witch of the West. And the troublesome twins - Flynn and Provenza - perfected drawing falling houses on my caricature.”

She led him to her dining room table.

“Interesting discussion for our first date, I guess,” she said.

He chuckled. “We got the throat clearing out of the way months ago.” He sipped his coffee. “Good flavor. And it’s light enough a roast to taste good. They treat you well at work now, right?”

“Yes. We’ve become quite a team.”

He nodded. “Rusty considers them his family.”

She smiled. “I’m so glad that he said that. And unprompted. I’ve tried to get that idea through to him, but you never know what sticks with teens. Adults too.”

“Is that a reference to me?”

She shrugged. “Applies to most people I know, and yes, including you.” She locked her gaze with his. “Whatever has brought you here - the accident in your former lab, perhaps - whatever it is, it hasn’t let you go. I don’t presume to know what you’ve been through--”

“Good. You couldn’t possibly.”

She nodded. “But I _know_ it’s shaped you. For better or worse. And that includes how you relate to me.”

He sighed. “It’s entirely too late and we’re much too tired for us to delve into that labyrinth tonight. But you’re right. As I suspect is a common occurrence.”

Her eyes twitched as they did when she was amused and satisfied. And she made no objection to his claim. “There’s always our next date,” she said. He must have blanched because she added, “Whenever you’re ready. I can wait.”

“And if I never am?”

“Then you aren’t.”

“But it’s my trust you want, correct?” She nodded. He continued, “You’ve never given me reason not to, and I _know_ on some level that I can, but--”

“I understand, Severus. This gives me something to work up to.”

“When did I earn such faith?” He raised a brow.

She smiled. “Sometime between storming into my office and giving Rusty that salve.”

He chuckled.

They sipped their coffees. When he finished, he reluctantly set down his mug. He remembered his manners, stood, picked up the cup, and reached out his hand to take hers. She thanked him as she handed it to him.

He loaded them into the dishwasher, following the pattern she and Rusty had previously established.

He sighed. There was no point in delaying further. It was time to go.

When he returned to the dining room, he didn’t have to say anything. She stood, and they walked to the door. This time he took the initiative. He leaned forward and pecked her lips. So soft and warm. Yielding. She held his head against hers, and when the connection between their mouths broke, she muttered something about preventing him from becoming skittish again. He grinned. “Are you prepared to do that often?”

She hmmed. “As much as necessary.”

Good to know. “Good night, Sharon. Sleep well.”

She opened the door and he stepped out, knowing he would get a full night’s rest for once.


	7. Chapter 7

“Is Mr. Prince, like, making a move on you, Sharon?” Rusty asked, as she was fixing her coffee. 

She snorted. God, Severus would die if he’d heard that. “I suppose you could call it that, yes.” She joined him at the table. “Is that...are you--”

He nodded. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

She gazed at him.

“Oh, right.” He shook his head. “Mr. Prince isn’t like them. He wouldn’t...hurt me. Or you.” He ran a hand through his hair. “He’s the guy who made a salve from scratch because someone else hurt me.”

She nodded. “He’s that guy, yes. Responsible. Intelligent. Caring.”

“You left off snarky.”

She laughed. “That too.”

“But you like it, don’t you?”

“I like that he doesn’t let anyone off easily. Not even me.”

“Or me.” He nodded. “So when you two date, what--”

She put up her hand. “I don’t know, Rusty. Really, I don’t.” She shook her head. “I do know we’re going to move very slowly. For all our sakes.”

“Oh. That’s cool. Slow seems like a good thing.” He shook his head. “I don’t have much experience with slow.”

She supposed he didn’t. Not from his mother’s examples. And his own encounters had been the antithesis of slow. Her son had never seen positive or healthy aspects of a relationship. Not even her own example with Jack had shown marriage in the best light. Quite the opposite, in fact. But with Severus, the three of them would see and experience the good with the bad. 

“I know I don’t need to tell you this. But Severus is very...sensitive. So--”

“--I shouldn’t bring it up.” He met her eyes. “I won’t.” 

“But he may want to talk to you.” 

He nodded. “I can just listen. Let him guide.” He laughed. “God, Sharon, I thought it would be different between adults.”

She rolled her eyes. “It is. In some ways, anyway. At least we’re not passing notes.”

“Nobody does that anymore. We text.”

“I suppose that’s one difference.” She finished her coffee and stood. “I gotta go. Be careful. Don’t let anyone in who isn’t me or Severus.”

“I know,” he said in a groan. 

She shot him a look.

“Have a good day, Sharon.”

She smiled. “You too.” She left, ready to take on the day. 

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

When Mr. Prince stepped inside, he didn’t walk with his usual confidence. He didn’t appear unhappy. More...nervous. From what Sharon had said, Mr. Prince had nothing to be nervous about. 

She’d also said not to bring it up. Not that he would. Rusty had always felt comfortable talking to Sharon, about almost everything, but that wasn’t the case with anyone else. “Hey, Mr. Prince. How was school?” 

That was friendly enough. Sounded normal, right?

Mr. Prince nodded and grumbled something about dunderheads. 

Rusty snorted. “Guess I’m not missing much, then.”

“Not in the slightest.”

They went to the couch and got started. The good news was they’d made enough progress on trig the day before they could focus on chemistry and then chess. It was a double score for both of them, and Mr. Prince visibly relaxed as he explained molality and stoichiometry. 

Then Mr. Prince paused and cleared his throat. “While it’s just us,” he started. “I think it would be prudent to clear the air.”

Rusty nodded.

“Your...Sharon and I…”

“I know, sir.”

He nodded. “And does that meet your approval?”

“Sure. I mean, you don’t need my approval. Just...be good to her, okay? I know she acts all badass and strong - and she is - but--”

“--You have my word, Rusty.”

“You really like her, don’t you?”

He nodded swiftly. “Yes. I’ve known no one like her.”

Rusty held out his hand, and Prince shook it. Two pumps. “You probably don’t wanna talk about this anymore.”

Prince shook his head. “Not so much.”

“Yeah, no offense, but there’s only so much I need to hear.”

“Duly noted.” Prince opened his chemistry book and pointed out a new formula. 

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

When Sharon opened the door, Severus rose to greet her with his usual fluidity. He reached for her bag and kissed her cheek seemingly completely unconcerned by Rusty’s proximity. Good. She squeezed his free hand and smiled. “Honey, I’m home.”

His eyes flashed before he schooled his features. “And how was your day?”

She shrugged. “The suspect confessed to lesser charges, and he’ll go away for life. That’s the best case scenario in my job.”

He nodded. “But it isn’t always enough, is it?”

“No.” She sighed. “It isn’t. It’s always worse when children are involved.”

He put her bag down under the hall table where she usually placed it. Then she found herself being guided into the living room, his hand gentle but firm on her shoulder. “I’m making you tea. The paperwork can wait,” he said as she sat in the armchair.

She nodded. “Tea sounds good.”

He strode into the kitchen. Rusty looked up from his book and snorted. 

“What?” she asked.

“Nothing.” He shrugged. “Sorry you had a rough case.”

“Thanks, honey.” She gave a small smile. “You know, I already feel a little better.” But while they were on the topic... “By the way, Chief Taylor would like to see you tomorrow morning.”

He groaned. “I guess we knew this was coming. He won’t, like, force me to do witness protection, will he? I mean, I’ve been good. Safe.”

“I don’t know. But from what I understand, he’s going to present you with options. And it’s your job to listen.”

“Okay. Will one of my options include getting out of this apartment? Or driving? Seeing my friends?” His eyes were wide. Impassioned. 

She sighed. One option _did_ include all of those possibilities, and they both knew it. They also knew he wouldn’t take it. For better or worse, he would stay with Sharon if at all possible, and she would never allow that possibility to be removed, no matter how hard Chief Taylor pushed. Or Rios. And she certainly wasn’t kowtowing to their stalker. If Rusty had the fortitude to live with those threats _alone_ for an entire summer, she could withstand them with the full weight of the LAPD behind her. 

“I know I’m being a pain. Sorry, I just…”

“I know, honey.”

He returned his focus to his textbook. His forehead crinkled in concentration. 

Severus returned with her tea. “Earl Grey with honey, madam.” 

The scent of the leaves soothed her. She mmmed as she reached for the mug. “Thank you.”

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

“What bothers you? Is it the case?” Severus asked.

She shook her head. “No. It’s Rusty.” She sighed. “He’s meeting with Chief Taylor tomorrow.”

“Regarding?” He raised a brow.

“His options for the foreseeable future.”

“Which are?”

“Keeping things as they are or having a shot at a normal life in witness protection.”

He nodded. “You know what he’ll choose.”

“I do. And it kills me I can’t give him that.”

He squeezed her hand. “Sharon, you’ve given him everything.”

She scooted closer to his side of the sofa and rested her head against his chest. He stroked her hair. 

“Besides, it’s not normality he needs most, but love.”

She smiled. “He does get that here.”

Some of the tension had evaporated. He wrapped his arm around her back, and she molded against him easily, relaxing into his embrace. For the first time in his life, he was needed, trusted, and most notable of all, he wasn’t taken for granted. 

“I didn’t ask you about your day,” she said, as though she had been remiss. 

He snorted. “Taught privileged dunderheads and then I came here.”

“I always wondered, if all your students fail, what happens?”

He rolled his eyes. “Obviously LA’s future _finest_ couldn’t possibly fail. There is a curve each quarter. A very sharp one too. And I have to say, Rusty’s former classmates aren’t too broken up to see him gone, aside from Kris, that is. Not that they wished him any malice, mind, but he did break their precious curve.”

She laughed. “Oh, dear.”

He ran his hand along the contour of her back. “Is there a third option?”

She lifted her head to look at him. “For what?”

“For Rusty. Because as invigorating as our afternoons together are, he’s going to start going stir crazy soon. And there’s only so much you or I can do to offset that.”

She sighed. And the tension returned, her back muscles taut. “I know. But I...I just can’t.”

“I understand.”

“He’s had enough attempts on his life for one lifetime.” She shook her head, obviously aware of the fallacy of her argument, but still unwilling to consider it.

“It isn’t my place. I apologize.”

She stroked his face. “You know that’s not what I think. I value you, your perspective. Has anyone ever told you you have a beautiful mind?”

He snorted. “No one has ever referred to any aspect of my person as beautiful.”

“Guess they haven’t really looked.” She grinned. “More for me.”

He kissed her. 

She moaned against his lips. “You’re getting better at that.”

“Kissing?”

“Being comfortable with me.”

He held her tighter against him. “I have always been comfortable in your presence. It was more a matter of knowing where you stood.”

“And now that you know?”

“You’ll have to endure more of my kisses.”

She snuggled deeper against his chest. “Good. And Severus, I’ll think about what you said. Truly.”

“In situations like this, it’s all about control.”

She hmmed. “And right now, I don’t have it.”


	8. Chapter 8

She could always count on Rusty to drop a bomb in the middle of a murder investigation. 

“I figured out what the third option is,” he said.

 _Of course he had. What is it about chess players?_ “What third option? There’s just the two options.”

He proceeded to list them, concluding that drawing out their stalker was the best choice. She rolled her eyes and took advantage of the fortuitous appearance of the department buy guy to return to her current case.

“I can’t believe you mentioned option three,” she said to Provenza when they got a spare moment. She led him into her office, where they met Chief Taylor. 

For once, the Chief and Provenza were on the same page, which wasn’t hers. “You can’t expect the kid to stay in your condo for the rest of his life,” Provenza said.

No, she couldn’t. “In situations like this, it’s all about control,” she said. 

Chief Taylor nodded. “Exactly. And we don’t have it now. The bad guy does. He has Rusty and you living in fear. And the LAPD running around trying to protect you both.”

Provenza rounded on her like a python who’d seen the opportunity to strike and went for it. “What would Rusty want?”

“He’d want to help.”

Then he sweetened the pot, giving her a little more control because she would be in a position to negotiate with Rusty and use her demands as leverage. She still didn’t like it, but everyone was right: ultimately it was in her son’s best interest. 

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Severus met them at the apartment after she and Rusty left the department for the day. They went inside and ate the Indian takeout Severus had picked up on the way. He showed them how to eat each item.

“When did you learn this?” Rusty asked.

“At university. My first flatmate was from India, and we thought it prudent to learn about each other’s customs.”

“It’s very good,” she said. 

Severus nodded. “It’s the best place I’ve found this side of the pond.”

When they were finished, Severus boiled water and poured it into three mugs, squeezing a lemon slice and pouring a spoonful of honey into each mug.

“What’s this for?” Rusty asked.

“To help settle our stomachs. We’re unaccustomed to all the heavy spices and flavors.”

Rusty nodded. “Oh, okay.”

“How did it go with Chief Taylor today?” Severus asked.

Rusty shrugged. “Okay, I guess. The Chief made me choose between staying with Sharon or going into witness protection. Which, I mean, my choice was pretty clear. I’m not sure why they bothered. But then Lieutenant Provenza mentioned a third option, but the Chief wouldn’t talk about it.”

“A third option?” Severus asked.

“Yeah. And I figured that out for myself.”

Sharon met Severus’s eyes but said nothing. 

“And what have you chosen?” 

“Sharon agreed to let me be part of an SIS operation. But she insisted I get evaluated by a therapist first.” He groaned dramatically.

“But then Rusty counter-offered that the therapist must be a chess player.”

“I see,” Severus said.

Rusty yawned. “Well, that was good. But Sharon dragged me out of bed at, like, four in the morning, for some kind of white powder or something.” She rolled her eyes. “Good night,” he said.

“Yes, you were right,” she said after Rusty closed his door.

“But are you okay with it?”

She sighed. “I will be after it’s over.”

////////////////////////////////////////

Lieutenant Provenza thrust the file into Flynn’s hands. “Go put that on the Captain’s desk.”

“What?! No.” He shoved the folder against Provenza’s chest. “You do it.”

Their own demented version of Hot Potato went on for a few moments.

“She trusts you more,” Flynn said.

“But she likes you. Mr. Wedding Date.” 

Flynn shrugged. “We’re just friends. She got me out of a jam. I owe her.”

“Ah. You _owe_ her. And what better opportunity than the present.”

Flynn sighed. “Fine. But this might hurt her. Are you prepared for that?”

“Don’t you think the Captain would rather know who she’s entrusting with Rusty?”

Flynn nodded and stepped toward the Captain’s office. 

//////////////////////////////////////////////

She shook her head. Her _senior_ detectives were at it again. She couldn’t figure out if the problems started with Provenza or Flynn, because when they were separated, there were no problems, but together… 

Provenza was clearly trying to coerce Flynn into doing something, and judging by Flynn’s expression as he approached her office, he’d succeeded. 

Flynn knocked on her door. 

“Come in.”

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Captain, you should see this.” He placed a file on her desk. 

“What are you and Lieutenant Provenza up to?”

His expression was the guilt under the guise of innocence she would have expected to see had she been a kindergarten teacher. Then he shrugged. “It’s...we were concerned.”

“About?” 

“Look at the file, Captain.”

 _Fine._ She opened the folder to discover Severus Prince hadn’t existed until approximately two years ago. The fact wasn’t as shocking as it should have been.

“What do you know about him?” Flynn asked.

He was a good man, a caring and responsible individual, who had always made her and Rusty feel safe. She met Flynn’s eyes. “I know I can trust him.”

He clearly didn’t know what to make of that.

“He’s done too much for Rusty and me. And I’ve seen enough untrustworthy people to know the difference.”

Flynn nodded. “I’ll leave you to it then.”

“Thank you.”

He raised a brow. 

“I know you and Lieutenant Provenza are looking out for Rusty.” She didn’t add _and me_. “And I appreciate that greatly. Truly.”

He exited the office.

So Prince wasn’t his real name. Was Severus? It must be; it fit him too well to be otherwise. He hadn’t existed before coming to LA, but there were no priors with his fingerprints. He didn’t appear to be wanted in connection to any crimes. And from what he’d said of his home, of his past, even the accident in his lab, he was a prime candidate for witness protection. 

If she dug deeper, she would discover everything within days. Maybe hours. But did she want to? She trusted him, and he was just beginning to trust her. If she thought Rusty’s safety was on the line, she wouldn’t hesitate. But what if it was Severus’s safety that was at issue? She needed to talk to him and regroup. 

She closed the file. What was his real surname? Was it something that went well with Severus? She shook her head and returned to the case at hand. 

Neither Provenza nor Flynn bothered her for the rest of the day.

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

“Prince isn’t your name.”

He shook his head. “How did--”

“Two of my detectives.”

He nodded. “Prince was my mother’s maiden name,” he said in almost a whisper. There was a reverence in his voice she hadn’t heard before. “I’m Severus Snape.” His lips curled in a sneer. “My name is the only thing my father ever gave me. He took everything else away.”

She squeezed his hand. “Tell me.”

“He killed my mother and himself. I was a boy.”

“What happened?”

He shrugged. “I was sent to boarding school. Spent the rest of my youth there before university. As a student, I quickly discovered my talent in chemistry. Along the way, I encountered an intelligence officer and was recruited.” He met her eyes. “I wish I had never met Albus Dumbledore sometimes. But then I wouldn’t have ended up here.”

She smiled sadly. “Rusty and I would miss you.” 

“I was sent to infiltrate a madman’s organization. Thomas Riddle was a lot like me in some respects. He’d had an unhappy childhood. Hated his father. He was brilliant and knew it. In his mind, he was the only one suitable to lead the world. And he was perfectly willing to take it by force. I was meant to be his weapon. Or at least to create them.”

“So you were divided between two masters?”

“A bloody pawn, yes. Only Albus was caught up in his own heroics, the old fool, and ended up falling victim to one of Riddle’s nastier traps. Riddle knew the only one who could stop him was Albus. And he’d wanted to test my loyalty.” He sneered. “Riddle was as paranoid as he was brilliant. He ordered me to kill Albus.”

She gasped. She _knew_ him, yes. He didn’t have the heart of a murderer. But someone caught up in a terrible situation, with only one way out, yes, she could see that. See Severus fighting for survival. “What did you do?”

“I killed him. But what no one knows is Albus himself had asked me to. You see, the old man was sick, and not even my skills could have saved him. The best I could do was keep him alive for a while.”

“He didn’t go to the hospital?”

He shook his head. “If he’d gone to a hospital, his department would have figured out he was dying, and they would have taken him off the case. But I was able to make him medicine that didn’t debilitate him the way other cancer drugs do.”

“Then why don’t you--”

“--Sell my creation?” He sighed. “Because it doesn’t cure cancer. It only offsets the symptoms. And not even many of those toward the end.” 

Maybe that particular medicine wasn’t perfect. But give him time, and he could create something that worked, something that would save countless lives. She firmly believed that.

“Do you really think the drug companies would allow me to work? To live?” He had obviously tapped into her thoughts. “Besides, I’m trying to keep a low profile, if you haven’t noticed.” There was a slight quirk to his mouth. 

“I’d noticed.”

“Anyway, Albus knew he was dying, and he knew toward the end, I needed to appear unquestionably loyal to Riddle, so we set it up. Albus’s heroism would get him trapped, and I would be the one to kill him. Quickly.

He shook his head. “I almost couldn’t do it. He pleaded with me. To a casual observer, it would’ve appeared he was begging for life, but I knew the truth. And I pulled the trigger.”

She squeezed his hand. Whatever he had said about Albus, it was clear he’d had great regard for the man. Perhaps had even loved him. “I’m sorry.”

“After that, Riddle kept me by his side. When I wasn’t in the lab. The intelligence office had no knowledge of my allegiance, although they continued to use the information I sent them. Covertly, of course. I knew my days were numbered.”

“So you took back control.”

He nodded. “I had to die.”

Then he described the snake bite, the venom working through his bloodstream. The antidote, followed by the blood loss, and finally, his destroyed lab. 

She’d never let go of his hand through it all. 

“If you want me out of your life--”

She shook her head. “It’s too late for that, Severus Snape.” She pulled him toward her, and he came with no resistance. She held him tight. “Entirely too late.”


	9. Chapter 9

Rusty gazed at her from across the table as though he was trying to discern her mood. “What?” she asked.

“You were acting kinda funny last night.”

She nodded. “Something came up.”

“Involving Mr. Prince?”

“In a manner of speaking, yeah.”

Rusty frowned. “I don’t think I understand.”

“Lieutenants Provenza and Flynn shared some concerns with me.”

“About Mr. Prince?”

She nodded. “And I knew I wanted to speak with him before jumping to any conclusions.”

“And?”

She smiled. “And he told me everything.”

He nodded. “So you’re still, like, dating, or whatever.”

“Probably closer to the ‘or whatever’ right now. But yes.”

“What did he tell you?”

She met his eyes. “That isn’t my story to tell. Maybe he’ll share it with you sometime, but Rusty, I have to tell you it still hurts him - badly - and he may never want to.”

He nodded. “Yeah, I think I can understand that. Are you gonna try to send him to therapy too?”

She rolled her eyes. “Perhaps I will.”

He laughed. “Can you imagine if we went together, Sharon?! The poor guy wouldn’t know what hit him.”

“Severus? Or the therapist?”

“Come on. I’m pretty sure Mr. Prince can handle a therapist.”

She nodded. “Seriously, though, I think you’ll like the one I found. He’s worked with the LAPD before, so he’s familiar with the kinds of cases and requirements. He plays chess--”

“Good chess, right?”

“Yes, _good_ chess. Severus gave me a screening question.”

He nodded. “Oh, good.” 

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////

“Are you nervous about tomorrow?” Mr. Prince asked.

Rusty shook his head. “Not really. I mean, Sharon found him for me, so he can’t be _too_ bad, and we’ll be in one of the conference rooms in the department. I can handle it.”

“Of course you can.”

“He’ll see everything he needs to know by watching me play.”

Prince nodded. “And he’ll see you’re highly adaptive and quick thinking. Good qualities to have for an operation of this calibre, I’d imagine.”

“So would you sign off on it? I mean if it was up to you?”

Prince’s brow furrowed. “In this case, I feel much like Sharon does. Taking solely your abilities into account, yes, I can see you being very successful in the field. But then I consider your safety, that you haven’t been trained… This is the best of limited options.”

Rusty nodded. This was the closest Mr. Prince had come to saying he cared for Rusty, but he figured actions spoke louder than words, especially where Mr. Prince was concerned. “They’ll train me. Before the actual operation. And I know Sharon and her team. They won’t leave me unprotected.”

“This...situation you’re in isn’t unlike my own past.”

Rusty met his eyes. “Really? Sharon mentioned it was painful - don’t worry, she didn’t say anything, except that you may not want to talk about it. Ever.”

His mouth quirked. “I reserve the right to be...choosy about what I share, but perhaps my experiences can help give you some perspective.”

Rusty nodded. 

“It all started whilst I was at university….”

///////////////////////////////////////////////////

Rusty barreled through the door without so much as a hello to Severus, who had been waiting in front of the apartment for their return. Perhaps she should consider giving him a key. Were they at that stage yet? Maybe stages didn’t even matter for them. 

Unperturbed, Severus said, “I take it his session didn’t go well.”

She shook her head. “Actually, it did. He won’t admit it, but he seems to like Dr. Joe.” She smiled. “And I think Dr. Joe beat him, so he’ll probably--”

“--Of course. Together we can crack the good doctor’s strategy, I’m sure.”

She nodded. “But then Emma Rios had to come into the murder room full of righteous indignation. How dare I seek treatment for my son?” She rolled her eyes. “Rusty let her have it, and neither Lieutenant Provenza nor I lifted an eyebrow to stop him.” She sighed. “But then she opened her big mouth about how his attending therapy would be made public during the trial.”

“Which brings us to date,” he said. 

“Yup.” She gestured inside. “Shall we?”

He held open the door for her. 

“I apologize on his behalf. For now.”

He waved it aside. 

He may be sensitive when it came to her, but he could easily handle the volatile disposition of a teenager. Good.

Rusty was flopped face-down on the sofa. She rolled her eyes at Severus, who was clearly resisting the urge to chuckle. He calmly approached the sofa. 

“I’m afraid I’m not in the right presence of mind for our lessons today,” Severus said. 

Rusty murmured something unintelligible into the cushion, but then he leaned up on his elbows. “No? Did you have a crappy day too?”

Severus nodded. “Indeed.” He paused. “So I was thinking you and Sharon could show me more American customs. If you’d be so kind as to help me take my mind off of it?”

“Yeah, sure. If by American, you mean burgers, I’m in.” Rusty sat up straight. “Is it cool if I take a shower first?”

“By all means,” Severus said. 

Rusty darted from the sofa to the hall bathroom. 

She hugged Severus from behind. “Thank you.”

He faced her and pulled her in for a tighter hug. “I know what it feels like - to have the rug pulled out from under you. I can’t fix that for him, but this, this I can do.”

“It’s enough.” 

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Stepping out of the shower, he felt much fresher, in a way that had nothing to do with soap. Maybe people would find out about his therapy sessions. Maybe they would find out about Griffin Park too. He couldn’t do anything about that. And as much as he hated being sacrificed so Emma could have her moment of glory in the courtroom, he also didn’t want Stroh to hurt anyone ever again. Mr. Prince - or Snape rather - had lost his home, his country, and everything else in order to see a madman killed. Rusty could never hope to be that brave or heroic, but he could survive having his dirty laundry aired before the world if it meant Phillip Stroh would spend the rest of his life in jail. And if he lost his home as a result, well, he could survive that too.

When he entered the living room, Snape was holding Sharon like he never wanted to let her go, and she seemed so happy to be needed like that. When they broke apart, Sharon smiled at Rusty. “Ready?”

Neither of them had said anything about his behavior, but he should apologize. Then he should listen to them, because if there is one thing he learned through all of this, it’s Emma Rios doesn’t know what the hell she’s talking about. 

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

She crawled into his lap. It was unexpected but quite pleasant. She kissed his neck through the turtleneck. “What has brought this on?” he asked.

She pulled back to look at him. “You.”

He chuckled “And how have I done that?” 

So far as he knew, he hadn’t behaved any differently than usual. And women had never exactly fallen all over him.

“Just by being you.”

Her eyes were decidedly green in this lighting, and they were pulling him in. She fidgeted under his gaze. She’d taken a risk and was obviously beginning to wonder if it would pay off. He ran his hand through her hair. “So soft. Like the finest feather.”

He pulled her back to him and kissed her. She moaned against his mouth. He catalogued the sound, determined to repeat the experiment for similar results. 

She pulled a corner of his shirt until she freed it from his trousers. Then she systematically untucked it before running her hands up his stomach and chest under the turtleneck. He shook, enough to break contact with her mouth.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. 

“You tickled me, is all. Wasn’t expecting it.”

Of course, because he’d said that, she did it again. He covered her hands with his, but she kept going. Finally, he broke down and chuckled. She joined in. 

When they calmed down, she said, “Sorry, not sorry.”

“Ha! Perhaps there’s something to that nickname of yours.”

“I never said otherwise.” She ran her hand through his hair. “It’s just that you aren’t intimidated by Darth Raydor.”

“Yes, I find Sharon much more effective.” He kissed her jawline, her neck, and found those results desirable as well. 

“What are we doing?” she asked.

He pulled back to meet her eyes. 

“I guess what I mean is how far do we want to go,” she said.

“I’m content just to hold you awhile. I’ve never known such...warmth.” 

She lay her head against his chest, and he wrapped his arms around her. “Stay the night?” she asked.

“And Rusty?”

“Would love to have breakfast with you.”

“How can I refuse?”

She stood and held out her hand to help him up. She didn’t let go as she led them to her room. 

“It suits you,” he said. The pale champagne colour on the walls fit her perfectly: calm, soothing. A place where she could lay her head after a long day.

“I like it.” She let go of his hand. “Well.”

“Well.” He sat at the foot of the bed. It was a _good_ mattress. The perfect combination of firm and plush. 

She fidgeted. “I’ll, um, go change.” She patted his leg. “Make yourself comfortable.”

She disappeared into the powder room. 

If he got _too_ comfortable, he was liable to fall asleep, which wasn’t the desired effect. There was also the question of his clothing, but he could slip off his shoes and remove his belt. Beyond that, it would be up to her. 

When she returned, she was a vision in red and lace. “Beautiful,” he said.

“Thank you.” She was modest without being false. Nervous and anxious but not insecure. She straddled his lap. “Hi.”

He cupped her face before kissing her. She clearly enjoyed the sensation of their tongues meeting as much as he. He came up for air. Her ears caught his attention. How many times had he seen them without noticing? He licked a shell. 

She giggled. 

“You don’t like that?”

“No, I do.” She smiled. “It tickled, is all.”

“Has anyone informed you that you have perfectly symmetrical ears?”

“Can’t say they have, no. Hmm. No one’s ever mentioned them.”

“An unacceptable oversight.”

She laughed. Then she wrapped her hands around his neck and leaned her head against his chest. “You make it so easy.”

“What’s that?”

She raised her head to look at him. “To be with you.”

“Should we talk about our...expectations?”

She hmmed. “Perhaps we’d better. You can go first, if you want.” That shyness had set in again. 

He stroked her cheek. “It may surprise you to learn I’m not very experienced in this department.” She didn’t react outwardly, but he knew she was processing that. “I don’t date much, I mean.” Let her make of that what she will.

“Oh, neither do I. Being married puts a damper on that.”

“And your husband?”

“We haven’t been...together for years. And the last time, it wasn’t good.” She looked away. 

He growled. “Did he--”

“--No. It was just...the end, you know. I’d already decided we should be apart. He wanted to change my mind.” She shook her head. “He only managed to strengthen my resolve.”

He held her tighter. “Has anyone ever successfully changed your mind about anything?”

“You and Rusty have, actually.”

“Me? In what regard?”

She kissed his nose, which was more affection than that unfortunate hook had ever received. “First, you made me see there was so much more to you.” She ran her fingers through his hair. It wasn’t as greasy since he’d left the dungeons, but still not his proudest feature. “Then, you made me respect you.” She kissed his neck. “Tonight you made me love you.”

“Now?”

“No. Well, yes, but it was earlier.”

“Do tell.”

“The ease with which you talk to Rusty. I...it’s silly.”

He held her face and brought it to his. “What?”

“I wished you and I could have raised my... our children.”

He could easily see it: He and Sharon making a life together, supporting each other through their careers, married, with a few children--their mother in miniature--except for maybe a son with his dark features. It was a beautiful dream, but reality had never looked or felt better. He kissed her and held her with no intention of letting go.

She wasn’t satisfied just sitting there. She reached up under his turtleneck. This time, he made no effort to stop her explorations. 

“I love your scars,” she said, running her fingers along a jagged one across and up his back.

“Why?”

“They’re part of you. Of the life you had before you came to me.”

He helped her remove his shirt. She let out a little gasp when she saw _it_. “Compliments of Nagini.”

He’d looked at it very briefly in the mirror before throwing his shirt on that morning, but he knew it was still red. Angry.

She rubbed it gently. “Does it hurt?”

“Sometimes. Mostly it just itches.” He’d had trouble speaking for weeks afterward. 

“Now?”

He shook his head. “Not all the time. I have a salve for it. And I let it ‘breathe’ when I’m home.”

She kissed it. “Thank you.”

“Whatever for?”

“Trusting me with this.” She kissed it again. “What happened to Nagini?”

“I’m assuming she died alongside her master when the cavalry overtook them.” He shrugged. “I was in and out of consciousness for most of the carnage.” 

“Lie down.”

He complied. 

She lay next to him. “What does it feel like when I kiss it?”

“Good. Normal. No. Better than normal.” It created pleasure in a place where he’d only known pain or discomfort for so long. “May I touch you?”

She mmmed. “Please.”

He angled for easier access. He ran his fingertips along the lace. The texture pleased him, but he needed more. He reached underneath the shift. Her already taut stomach tightened. “Okay?” he asked. “Is my hand too cold?”

He’d always run a bit cold. But after Nagini, his body temperature had become even colder. 

“No. It feels good. Keep going. Please.”

 _With pleasure._ His explorations led to a thin, faint, line across the bottom of her stomach. 

“My daughter. Emily. It wasn’t an easy pregnancy. Or delivery.”

He lifted her shift enough to kiss it. “Beautiful.”

“She is. Worth every minute.”

He peeled open the maddeningly small buttons, a labor of love. 

She giggled at his huff. “Here. Just lift it off,” she said. “No one expects you to use the buttons.”

“Quite.” 

She helped him remove the sheer fabric, then she was bared before him. 

“Well,” she said.

“Sorry.” He’d been staring. “Just trying to decide what to do first.”

“Mmm.”

He kissed her neck. She made that sound he loved. He moved lower, stopping along her throat, before he landed between her breasts. “What do you like?” he asked. 

She reached for his hand and brought it to her breast. “This is a very...forgiving area. Play with them. Use your mouth and fingers, tongue, palms, and even teeth,” she said. “Your imagination too.”

He kneaded them first. Got acquainted with their size and shape. They filled his hands perfectly. “Is this okay?”

“Mmhmm,” she said. “I’m overwhelmed. In a good way.”

“You mean--”

“--I think so. Pinch them.”

He pinched her nipples. He applied just enough pressure to elicit a moan. He released, and pinched them again. And again. They felt like pebbles. 

“So close,” she said.

He licked her ear. “What do you need?”

“Mmm. Touch me. Won’t take much.”

He rubbed her mound through her panties. 

“More.”

He slid a finger under the fabric and explored. She grabbed his hand and showed him where she needed him. “Circles? Or flicks?” he asked.

“Circles.”

He listened for moans or groans as he rubbed her. Her breathing increased. It wouldn’t be long.

“Now,” she said.

He simultaneously pinched her nipple and button; that was all it took. She screamed his name. He released her as she came down. He licked his finger: tasted like her. He lay next to her, kissing her.

His erection poked rather insistently against her hip. She laughed and cupped him. “Your turn, honey.”

////////////////////////////////////////////////////

He moaned at the contact. “Feel okay?” she asked.

“Very nice,” he said. “Won’t last long, if you keep that up.”

She stroked him harder. “Guess you’re ready, then.”

“And you?” 

“Couldn’t get any more ready.”

He helped her remove his boxers. “What do you need?” he asked.

She lay on her back. “You. Now.”

He chuckled. “Yes, Captain,” as he lay above her. He pushed his way inside. “Okay?” he asked. 

“Fine,” she said. It had been so long. “Keep going.” She arched up to help him. 

He moved slowly as she adjusted. “I’m not hurting you?” 

How had she ever thought he was inconsiderate? If anything, he was too much so. They would have to remedy that. She stroked his face. “Feels good.” She moaned as he reached _it_. “So good.” Then he started moving. _Finally_. “Yes!” She shouted. 

“Coming.” 

She reached between them for her clit. He covered her fingers with his. _Perfect_. 

He came with a final grunt. Then he rubbed her faster, just like she’d shown him. She screamed his name, and it was over. 

He collapsed next to her, and she buried her head in his neck, kissing his scar. 

“Sorry,” he said.

She pushed herself up to look at him. “Whatever for?”

“Not lasting long enough. I wanted us to--”

She placed her finger on his mouth. “It was great. You were wonderful - generous, considerate, attentive.” She kissed him. “Considering the tension between us, it’s a miracle we didn’t combust the second we started.”

He chuckled. “But what a way to go.” 

She hugged him. “Hmm.”

“I love you,” he said. 

She held him tighter, communicating with her embrace that she was _there_ with him. They were real. She wasn’t going anywhere. “Me too,” she said. “Let’s get cleaned up.”

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

The sensation in his nose stirred him. He opened his eyes. Her hair had scattered; a strand had found its way to his nose. Her head rested on his chest, her arms around his waist. He ran his hand through her hair, fixing it. He kissed the top of her head. She mmmed but didn’t awaken.

He extracted himself from her embrace, leaving his pillow to hold in his stead. He dressed. There wasn’t much to be done about his bedhead until he showered. He padded into the kitchen. 

He didn’t know when she needed to rise, but coffee makes the politician wise. It would likely work wonders for them as well. He plugged in and started the Keurig. Then he reached in the cabinet for three mugs. 

A bedroom door opened, then closed. Heavy footsteps in the hall. Rusty, no doubt.   
“Morning,” Rusty said, from the breakfast bar. 

“Good morning. Coffee?”

Rusty nodded. “Definitely. Sharon wants me to shadow her team today. Unofficially, she says.” He shrugged. “All I do is ‘shadow’ them.”

“Perhaps she’s worried you’re getting bored here.”

He snorted. “Too late for that,” he said. “But I’m grateful that everyone’s, you know, working with me, protecting me.” He met Severus’s eyes. “And thanks, Mr. Prince, for...everything.”

Severus retrieved the full coffee mug. “How do you take it?” 

Rusty told him sweet and light, and Severus complied. He placed the mug in front of Rusty. “You’re quite welcome,” he said. “And when we’re not in school, you may call me Severus. If you want.”

“Because you’re dating Sharon?”

“And because our acquaintance has outstripped the necessity of formality.”

Rusty grinned. “In other words, we’re friends.”

Severus sipped his black coffee. “Quite,” he said. “What does she like for breakfast?”

“Everything really. Eggs. Cereal when we’re in a hurry. Toast. Jack tried to impress her by making pancakes.” He snorted. “It didn’t work.”

“No?”

Rusty shook his head. “With Jack, it was like, everything was...forced. He wanted her approval, wanted me to like him. But, he didn’t want to apologize for anything.” He shrugged. “A lot like my mom, I guess.” He frowned. “I hope Dr. Joe doesn’t make me talk about her.”

“Think of it like taking control of the center. The session can only accomplish what you allow it to. If he pushes, hold firm,” he said. “On the other hand, you may find it...beneficial to face certain unpleasant truths.”

“I’ll deal with plenty of that during the trial.”

He nodded. “Eggs and toast it is, I think. How do you like them?”

“Scrambled with cheese.” Rusty sipped his coffee and placed the mug on the countertop. Then he went to the refrigerator and grabbed the egg carton and a bag of shredded cheese. 

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

The low rumble of Severus’s voice and the higher pitch of Rusty’s, along with the smells of coffee, eggs, and toast woke her up. She threw on her robe and joined them. “Good morning,” she said.

“Hey, Sharon,” Rusty said. “Have a seat. We got this.”

Her boys worked side-by-side. Rusty whisked the eggs, under Severus’s watchful gaze. He glanced her way. “Quite right.”

They would deal with the logistics later. The uncertain future. Danger. All of that could wait. For now, they would enjoy breakfast. Together. “Okay.” She smiled. “I could get used to this.”


End file.
